


Next Friday

by bebtea



Category: Zombies Run!
Genre: F/M, Found Family, but set between m15-m17, hunger, spoilers to s5ep17, zrs5 spoilers
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-09-15
Updated: 2020-09-15
Packaged: 2021-03-10 17:27:05
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,815
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/28160904
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/bebtea/pseuds/bebtea
Summary: Owen, Veronica and Nadia might live in a nightmare, but at least there's movie night.
Relationships: Nadia Al Hanaki/Owen Landis
Kudos: 1





	Next Friday

Owen is an idiot, Veronica has always thought. But lately, he’s _their_ idiot. Popping up in the lab asking her opinions on irrigation techniques - not her area, of course, but the science behind some of it is fascinating. Appearing during Friday movie nights with Nadia, which had always been _their_ thing, but still respecting that. Appreciating whatever they chose. Never pushing things too far. He’s really good at cooking, too, eking out the most flavour possible from their smaller and smaller ration packs - and always making sure they eat before he does. Maybe there isn’t too much going on upstairs, but he’s _nice_. He doesn’t judge her, or set her off, or sit too close, or try and make eye contact like Ian does. 

“Only liars don’t look people in the eye, Veronica,” Ian had hissed earlier that afternoon. He’d asked some inane question about Sigrid’s taste in wine, and she’d tried to brush him off but he was having none of it. “I know you’re the Minister’s precious little poppet, but I don’t trust you. Nobody likes creepy children who hover around where they’re not wanted. You and your nasty, sneaky girl guide friends… although they don’t really like you either, do they? Not really one for friends your own age, are you?”

She’d stared right ahead, still avoiding his face. “I need to get on with my work, Ian. Haven’t you got things to be doing for Sigrid too?”

He got a tad frostier. “Watch your tone. It’s the Minister to you. And she isn’t here right now, sweetheart, is she?”

“Don’t call me that.”

“Say one more thing to me in that tone of voice, Miss McShell, one more thing, and you won’t see your Nadia for a very, _very_ long time.”

The beaker in Veronica’s hand cracked around the base as she squeezed it. What tone? She’d tried to be polite. She could feel his stinking breath on her neck, knew his flat grey eyes would be right there if she looked at them, full of blazing jealousy and spite. And he wouldn’t, _couldn’_ t follow through on that threat, could he? She was here of her own volition.

“Hey, Ronnie! And - oh, hello, I- _Commander_. We were just going to lunch?” Owen hurried into the lab, his voice bright and giving nothing away, but Veronica noticed from years of analysing it that his posture was stiff for a trained Runner. Beaten, perhaps, or anxious? Ian sneered a little at the sight of him, but backed off, probably appeased by the honorific, and she let Runner Six take her by the hand and pull her away. He’d sat her between himself and Runner Thirteen, and tried to get them engaged in a silly story about the time a koala attempted to steal his mum’s van. She’d ended up explaining to them the high rates of chlamydia among koalas, getting a bit confused when Cameo and Owen found the facts so funny. And the day passed safely - at least until he made a run for it.

The sweat is pouring off Owen’s face now as she attempts to dig the bullet out of his leg, swearing profusely even for an Australian. “Jesus FUCK!”

“I’ve not done this before! I’m trying my best.”

“Fucking Ian, the mangy bastard cu-”

Nadia clamps her hands over Veronica’s ears as if she’s never heard the word before. “Please, just keep it down before someone tips him off!”

Ian hadn’t seen the need to let a ‘traitorous, stupid boy’ use ‘limited medical resources’. Owen is supposed to be back on punishment detail, 5am sharp, or face the consequences. The only thing keeping him from the box is the fact that Cameo is already occupying it. So here they are in the lab, after hours, with a sixteen year old girl trying to stop him bleeding out with very little time, experience or painkillers. 

“Ya know, I’ve been through a fair amount of utter bollocking bollocks this apocalypse but really-“

“Runner Six, will you shut it!” And then, closer to his ear, out of Veronica’s earshot: “Did it work?”

He gives the slightest of nods. She smiles, broad and genuine, though her face is thin. They’re all getting a little more haggard, day by day. Veronica glances at the two of them, lovingly gazing at each other, and resolves that she’ll find some clever way to bring their lack of food up to the Minister. Sigrid is a smart woman; if she had any inkling that her top scientist keeps finding hair on her pillow each morning, that her fingernails are brittle, that three people collapsed in the fields last week, that for the first time since meeting Nadia she can count each and every rib, she’d surely do something to curb Ian’s ridiculous power trip.

She yanks at the bullet. Owen screams blue murder. Nadia shoves a balled up tea towel into his mouth, and deadpans: “So much for movie night.”

“I wasn’t really looking forward to _The Green Mile_ ,” Veronica admits. “I don’t know what you have against _Planet Earth_.”

“The fact that I have seen the same episode of the same documentary a thousand times in the last three years may play a part, Ronnie.”

“…only thirty-three.”

“What?”

“I pick the movie every other week. Because of many changes in circumstance, we’ve only had a hundred and nine movie nights. I pick _Planet Earth_ approximately sixty percent of the time. We’ve seen it thirty-three times in the last two and a half years.”

Nadia sighs, and removes the cloth from Owen’s mouth. “You holding up?”

“I’m sorry for ruining your plans, ladies. Next time I try to escape from budget bloody Percy Wetmore, I promise not to do it on a Friday,” Owen pants, but the pain seems to be receding. “Ya know, if I had a nickel for every time I got shot in this calf, I’d have two nickels.”

“Which isn’t a lot, but insane that it happened twice, right?” Nadia responds with a short laugh. 

“Did you both spend all your time watching children’s shows pre-apocalypse?”

“Hey, I was a kid pre-apocalypse! She has no excuse.”

“Um, ATC work was stressful and I make no excuses for how I enjoyed my free time.”

“But if you’re twenty-four now, you were eighteen on Z-day, Owen,” Veronica points out.

“Eighteen year olds are still kids, Ronnie.” His voice is suddenly quite tired. He squeezes Nadia’s hand as Veronica pulls the first stitch, hissing between his teeth a little.

She juts out her chin. “I’m younger than that and I’m not a child.”

Neither of them dispute that, though she still cuts a tiny figure in a too-large lab coat, sleeves rolled up three times to make it fit.

“How do you know it’s from a children’s show, anyway, Miss-never-watched-Disney-Channel?”

“…I don’t have to answer that if I’m not comfortable.”

Nadia shoots her an expressing your boundaries thumbs-up. She feels the worry in her chest loosen a little. Everything will be fine. She’ll get Owen’s leg stitched, and today’s drama will force Sigrid’s hand. The Minister will come to Abel and fix things, and she can get back to working on the cure, and Owen and Nadia will be safe and look after each other.

“I’m going to head back to my bunk, I think,” Nadia says, a tinge of fear in her voice as she glances through the darkening window. “Better not to be missed too long, and I should check on Cameo. She… she distracted Ian from you for a bit. It didn’t look pretty.”

“We’ll be all right, Naddi, you go on,” Owen squeezes her hand one last time, and lies back on the lab table. Veronica nods, absorbed in her task. They hear her wheels clatter down the ramp and fade across the square, quiet as footsteps.

“So, you like _Planet Earth_ a lot?”

“I used to watch it with Dad.”

“Oh. Makes sense. My mum’s a big Tom Hanks fan. I’ve probably seen every movie he’s been in… well, about thirty-three times as well.”

“You know there’s a video of _Castaway_ in the rec room, right?”

“I brought it back, actually. Years ago, now. But I don’t know if I can watch it, yeah? I’m scared it might make me think about her too much.”

“Owen,” Veronica finishes the stitches, and starts to clean up some of the blood. She’s watched Kefilwe do this dozens of times. Antiseptic. Dabbing rather than smearing. Keep the patient’s mind off the sting. “Do you remember what your mum looks like?”

The silence that follows makes her wonder if this is a faux pas. He eventually responds: “No, not quite.”

“No, me neither. I have a photo, but I can’t picture them as actual living people. Memories are really interesting that way, actually. We’re not as visual as-“

“Ronnie. Can we talk about something else?”

“Okay.” She racks her brains for small talk. “Do you… like it here at Abel?”

“What, now?” He snorts. “With that pinstripe suit cu-”

Veronica clamps her hands over her own ears, knowing Nadia wouldn’t want her to hear it. He smiles, and raises his hands in apology.

“No, not now. Before.”

“It was all right. Home. Safe. You knew Janine was looking out for ya. There was always enough food to go round.”

“But did you feel like you fit in?” she presses.

“…can’t say I did.”

“Me neither,” she says, a little relieved.

“Runners are quite a superstitious bunch. And I’m unlucky.”

Her brow scrunches in confusion. “Bad luck isn’t a very scientific reason to dislike someone.”

“Can you tell that to getting tied to train tracks, set on fire and repeatedly shot at?”

“Actually, Dad was working on a statistical model of danger to Runners in his spare time. I found it a while ago, me and Nadia were repurposing it to make missions safer. When I include Five in the sample, you actually fall under the average for number of dangerous situations encountered.”

“Uh, I think Five is an outlier.”

“You’re probably right.” She wraps the wound in bandages, and tucks them in. “Done!”

“I owe you one, Ronnie.”

“Just… stay safe. Both of you. I haven’t got time to worry about you two as well as curing the zombie plague.”

“You’re only a… you shouldn’t be worried about us at all, squirt.”

She shrugs. “It’s not my fault you do worrying things. If he puts you in a cell and you can’t change the dressings frequently just do your best to keep it clean.”

“Will do!” He swings off the table, avoiding putting weight on his leg as much as possible. “Whatever he does, I’ll try to make next Friday, all right?”

She nods. Next Friday, she’ll pick out _Castaway_ , and they’ll watch it together, and maybe movie night can be Owen’s thing too.


End file.
